Archers Can Only Attack From a Certain Distance, Fool!
by Skarrow
Summary: Something is on the loose. In silence it stalks its prey. Never does it fail to find the mark. It slips away unseen, unheard. It is a huntress... a huntress without peer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening or any of its characters.

This story is written for my nephew, who challenged me to write Robin this way after watching a documentary together. My nephew also came up with the title.

* * *

"Chrom, we have to do _something_!" Lissa insists. The young princess had failed to check the unconscious woman for internal injuries with her magic, and she didn't like what she'd discovered. The stranger's body isn't sporting any physical wounds and besides some fatigue, it could've been considered the very peak of health. It is the woman's mind that set Lissa's alarm bells ringing.

Normally, whenever Lissa used her staff to heal people she could feel a kind of "connection" resonate between herself and her patient. It was usually a sign that the flow of energy fueling the restorative process was working. But just a few moments ago when Lissa was probing the older girl, she couldn't establish a link between herself and her patient. The princess had tried her best, but there was only so much she could do if the other party was blocking her out. There were three possible scenarios that could explain what was going wrong:

First, the patient is dead. But you didn't need to be a doctor to see that the hooded woman was still breathing and had a pulse, so...

Second, the patient is actually an incredibly powerful mage who is fully capable of protecting herself in a magical barrier even while out of commission. Which Lissa really, really hoped was the case...

Third, the patient is brain dead. The human brain was a mysterious thing, the kind of subject that only people like Miriel could even begin to understand. This was waaay outside Lissa's range of capabilities, but she still wanted to bring the unconscious female they'd stumbled upon to the closest village for a professional diagnosis, which was the reason why she wanted her brother to act as swiftly as possible!

"What do you propose we do?"

Her exasperating older brother clearly did not understand the urgency in Lissa's tone. He was only a simple crown prince who broke things in and around the Shepherds' garrison in the name of training, so he would need to hear a good reason to move straight from his sister's mouth. Or at least, a logical suggestion as to what, exactly, they would do with the mysterious sleeping beauty.

The princess stares at Chrom, at the comatose patient, at Frederick and his passive face, and back at Chrom.

"I-I don't know!"

...Lissa, understandably, is overwhelmed by the burden of knowing that of the three of them (Chrom, Frederick and herself), she is the only one with enough medical training to grasp how dire the situation was for her patient, at the same time too inexperienced to state any reliable claim to the woman's advanced condition. But Lissa knows that she needs to convince her brother and their bodyguard somehow - the thought of a person losing their life under her watch, so early in her career is unsettling.

The woman lying on the ground begins to stir, unbeknownst to the royal siblings as they exchange words. The small, sharp intake of breath is what catches their attention.

"O-oh! Hey, there!" Lissa greets the groggy female with a shy yet relieved smile. At the back of her head, she concludes that it was due to her own lack of experience that she reacted so badly, because this stranger seems to be doing perfectly fine.

"There are better places to sleep than on the ground, you know." Chrom softens his teasing with a friendly smile of his own. "Here, give me your hand."

The woman lying in the grass does not take the offered hand in question. She does not appear to notice it. Instead, she stares at Chrom's face with wide eyes...

Chrom's smile drops a fraction from apprehension at the stranger's unresponsiveness. "...What's wrong? Can't move? ...Lissa I thought you made sure she wasn't injured?"

Lissa takes a closer look at the woman's eyes - her pupils were noticeably enlarged (which Lissa found strange because one's eye pupils would shrink when exposed to light, and it was really bright out today) but that is not what worries the princess; it s the stranger's lost, blank look that gets those metaphorical warning bells inside Lissa's head ringing all over again.

The prince does not wait for his sister to formulate a coherent response to his inquiry - he is a man of action with purpose, after all. And right now, his purpose is to get this cloaked female to safety. He stoops down and prepares to scoop his right arm underneath the woman's shoulders to help her sit up-

"?!"

The moment he does, the stranger reaches out and cradles his face with both of her hands.

Frederick reacts .81 seconds after her unexpected action, the business end of his lance poised to stab her neck should she make any sudden movements. "Unhand him right this instant, wretched assassin!"

The assassin ignores the knight and continues her rather sensual assault of Chrom's face, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs in such a way that the prince feels that he is being... worshiped, somehow.

"Unhand him, I said!"

Chrom begins to feel very, very uncomfortable from the constant attention and instinctively tries to free himself from the girl's touches without hurting her by pulling his head back. To his increasing confusion, she just leans forwards, following him so she can continue. His legs are starting to fall asleep from crouching and stretching away from her at the same time.

"If you do not remove your hands from milord's visage immediately, I will-!"

Frederick's threat is cut short when Chrom ends up losing his balance while trying to get away and falls backwards. He automatically flails for something to keep himself from hitting the ground and ends up dragging the hooded lady down as well, sprawling right on top of him. Lissa gawks at her brother and the stranger with wide eyes and an open mouth for a split second before doubling over with laughter at how incredible the situation was.

"Hahahahahaha!"

"Heeheeheeheehee!"

To Chrom's, Lissa's and Frederick's consternation, the 'assassin' starts laughing as well and with pure, childish delight. Before anyone could do or say anything, the female makes herself comfortable, rests her head on Chrom's chest and closes her eyes in contentment.

Lissa bursts out laughing again, this time at Chrom's panicked 'what do I do?!' face and his predicament. She also thought that while it was kind of creepy to see a strange girl on top of her brother, she kind of found the older girl's actions... cute. It was like watching the young children in back Ylisstol clamber all over 'Big Brother Chrom' for a piggy-back ride or to play horsie, only with a grown woman instead.

Frederick on the other hand did not find such interactions funny or cute, but scandalous and offensive to both the crown prince he had sworn to protect and to his own sensibilities. Acting swiftly, Frederick sets down his lance in the grass next to his feet, grabs the assassin by her shoulders and hauls her right off of Chrom. The lady yelps and immediately struggles against the restraining hands; it is almost as if she does not know how to use her legs to stay standing. As the royal siblings look on - one with apprehension and the other with glee - the knight resorts to hooking his hands beneath her armpits and lifting the female right off the ground.

"I-I've heard of this b-before," Lissa wheezes, unable to smother her giggles. "Despite all appearances, she definitely shows behavioral patterns similar to that of a child - and it isn't her fault."

"Why? How?" Chrom asked, finally climbing to his feet. "Was she perhaps the victim of a curse?" He glares sternly at Lissa, but she is unable to stop laughing at his expense.

The princess swallows hard before answering him in a calmer voice, "I'm not sure how it happened... but if my hunch is right, we'll have to take her to a doctor. The problem isn't with her body, but with her mind; she might have... erm, what was the condition called again? I can't seem to remember..."

"It's called a load of pegasus dung," Frederick remarks, keeping a tight hold on the flailing female's shoulders. "We're to believe this woman has the mind of a child? Then why perchance would she attack milord with intent to kill if that were truly the case?"

Chrom's eyebrow arches at his guardian's choice of words. If that truly was her "intent to kill", he could only imagine what a friendly gesture from the stranger would be like.

Lissa finally stops laughing and stomps her foot. "I'm telling you, this is a very serious condition!"

"N-ngh!" The strange female continues her attempts to lunge herself at Chrom, but the knight manages to keep her away from the royal. Her hands are stretched out towards Chrom beseechingly, and her face looks so distressed Lissa is certain that the woman is going to break down any second now.

"Do you see? Even now she continues her mindless attempts at strangulation!" Frederick exclaims. "She must be arrested and taken to the capital for interrogation. There is a possibility she is working for Plegia."

The prince gazes at the weird female still trying to get back to him, pondering on his next actions. On one hand, he trusts Lissa and her judgment as a healer; if she says the cloaked woman needs to see a professional, then it is very likely that the 'condition' his sister spoke of truly is as serious as she makes it out to be. On the other hand Chrom isn't sure he can stand another minute of his personal space getting violated.

"...Wah..."

Suddenly, without warning, the woman in the knight's hands begins to tear up. Chrom, Lissa and Frederick abruptly stop discussing the fate of the woman and stand completely still, the female's sniffles and hiccups becoming more and more pronounced with every passing second.

"WAAAAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The assassin's sobs seem to come straight from the very bottom of her soul, and she ceases her fruitless struggles at last. The cries are loud and long, almost heart-wrenching, and the three Ylisseans suspect that the woman's voice can be heard from all four corners of the halidom.

Without thinking, Lissa steps forward-

"No, stay back milady!" Frederick warns.

-and pets the woman's cloaked arm in what the princess hopes to be a soothing manner. "I-it's all right. There, there. You want to hug Big Brother Chrom, don't you? He's right here! See?" Lissa coos, ignoring Frederick's protests and giving Chrom a look.

Chrom doesn't know why he's going to go through with what Lissa is hinting for him to do so easily, but if it will make those terrible wails stop, then he sees no reason to hesitate any longer.

The prince steps forward. "Frederick, let go of her."

"M-milord, I strongly suggest that-"

"Please."

Chrom doesn't want to hear Frederick's warnings anymore than he wants to hear the stranger scream and cry. Frederick senses his lord's impatience and very, very reluctantly lowers the woman until her feet are touching the ground before releasing her.

Her knees buckle almost immediately, and she falls forwards with a startled 'meep'. Chrom tries to catch her at the same time as Lissa, and the siblings both end up on the grass, the stranger resting heavily on top of them. Unable to handle the ridiculousness of their situation, Lissa begins laughing once again, and this time Chrom joins her in spite of himself. The stranger sniffles and giggles along with them, very much amused at the fall itself.

"What if her condition _is_ real, Frederick?" Chrom says at last, still lying on his back with both his sister and the other girl lying heavily on top of him. "We can't just leave her, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?"

"Just the same, milord." Frederick picks up his lance from where he'd left it. "I must emphasize caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock. Especially not one as cunning as this."

"Right then - we'll take her back to town and sort this out there. We would need to, regardless, if she truly needs a physician." Chrom starts to get up when he catches the curious gaze the female is giving him. He smiles at her, unsure, and slowly stretches out his arm to gently pat the top of her head; it is an action usually reserved for the children he occasionally plays with back at the capital, and the royal feels out of place doing it to the woman before him now. "Peace, friend - I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town."

* * *

It is Chrom's decision to bring her to town, so he takes it upon himself to carry her all the way there on his back when they realize she cannot walk. They had already tried having her sit with Frederick on his war horse, but Chrom quickly snatched her back when she started sniffling once more.

Lissa glances at her brother and his passenger, not bothering to be discreet about it, and giggles at the sight of the weird lady playing around with Chrom's blue locks. "Hee hee! She looks so happy! I've got half a mind to bring her back home with us to the castle..."

By this point, the back of the royal's head looks like a porcupine. The woman makes a sound of approval at her handiwork, causing the boys to go pale for different reasons.

"Now that I think about it, she hasn't uttered a single word since she woke up. I wonder if she can speak?" Lissa wondered.

"...Hmm, how curious." Chrom turns his head to the side a bit so he can see her. "Tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?"

"...?"

"Ha! Someone pay this actor. She plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing..."

"Frederick, please."

The knight bows his head gracefully, and Chrom resumes his one-sided conversation with the woman. "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt." The prince doesn't know why he feels the need to explain what his homeland is to her, but he rolls with it. "...I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."

"I am _not_ delicate! Hmph!" Lissa complains. "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!"

Chrom laughs, heartily agreeing with his sister before resuming the introductions. "This man is Frederick. He is a knight that has faithfully served the royal family for many years - we call him Frederick the Wary."

"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."

"...?"

The puzzled expression on the woman's face did not change. Lissa frowns with concern - this mental illness is beginning to look worse and worse the more time they spend with her. Resolved to see the lady's recovery, Lissa faces forwards to march faster-

Fire! The town is on fire!

"Ah, well," Chrom relents. He can see that trying to coax a word out of the lady riding on his back is a hopeless endeavor, so he addresses his companions instead. "We're almost to town. Once we-"

"Chrom, look! The town!" Lissa interrupts frantically, pointing straight ahead. Alarmed by her sudden shout, Chrom and Frederick look in the direction she is pointing. The town's situation rapidly becomes clear.

"Damn it! The town is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt... Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!"

"But, milord! What about her?"

Chrom blinks at Frederick, unable to comprehend what his long time guardian and friend is referring to.

"Uwee!" The female he somehow forgot he was giving a piggy-back ride this entire time makes a strange noise as if to announce her presence, resuming her play with the prince's hair.

"Ah... right..."

Chrom bends down closer to the ground and carefully drops her off.

"...Guh?"

He turns around, places his hands on her shoulders and gazes deeply into her eyes in order to drive home his words.

"Listen to me. Lissa, Frederick and I are going to go and help the villagers. Under no circumstances do you move from this spot. I promise we will return for you. Alright?"

As he wheedles her, he can't help but feel in his gut that he should _not_ leave her behind. But this is an unreasonable impulse - the woman couldn't speak, much less use her legs! Bringing her with them would make her a liability - and Chrom didn't want to put her in any danger.

And yet...

Her eyes, so big and innocent and clear, seemed to be pleading him not to leave her... something inside him ached to see such a pitiful visage.

"Chrom!" Lissa shouts, already a few paces ahead with Frederick.

"I'm coming!" Chrom hollers back. He turns his attention once more to the woman in his grasp. After repeating his words four more times, he forces himself to stand up and run after his sister and his guardian; the more time they waste, the more innocent lives are jeopardized.

The woman sits on her rump in the dirt road, staring longingly after the blue-haired noble's retreating back. Her lips begin to move in a clumsy, silent attempt at saying the only word she knew, the only word that rang true within her simple mind:

"...C...c-..."

But the effort is too much for her.

When the lord disappears around the bend, the young woman shifts onto all fours and begins slowly crawling after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notice:** Haphazardly ordered scenes abound in this chapter. Will require a bit of thinking to piece together what really happens to everybody correctly. Fanfic is listed under the "mystery" genre for a reason.  


* * *

"Garrick, the fire is spreading slower than we anticipated!" The mage shouts, running towards his leader as fast as his robes allow him to. "The citizens have assembled themselves into groups and are drawing water from the underground wells to control the damages caused by the flames! Us mages can't keep up the pressure, and the others are struggling against the town militia that have holed themselves inside the church!"

Garrick plants his boot in an already dead male citizen's stomach, sending him over the side of the bridge and into the shallow river below. He turns around and sneers. "Well we can't have that now, can we?" He glances over his shoulder at a couple of his men, who were busy ransacking a couple of nearby houses. "Oi! One of you twerps not busy?! I've got a _real_ good mission for you. Whoever does this will get to live the good life for the rest of his days!"

Two barbarians and a myrmidon instantly drop whatever valuables they are holding to stand in front of their superior. Garrick laughs at their apparent eagerness and gestures to the west with his axe. "You boys remember that quaint little contraption over by the town entrance, I reckon? The 'pump', or whatever the mayor called it before I ended his sorry life? Whoever figures out how it works and seals off the underground wells first will get the lion's share of today's haul!"

The three nearly trip over themselves and each other as they run, fueled by competition, bloodlust and greed. Garrick belches a short, nasty guffaw at their hasty departure and turns his attention back to the messenger mage. "You! Round up anyone who isn't transporting goods and direct them to the church! We'll slaughter those fools and paint Naga's prayer halls red!"

The mage turns around to go back and do just as he is asked so he can resume helping his fellow mages burn the town to the ground... when movement in one of the alleys catches his eye. Suspicious and wary, he creeps towards the spot in question, his fire tome clutched in his hands just in case.

...There is no one in the alley. There isn't even any possible hiding spots for any enemy to take cover in; there is a small puddle of dirty water on the ground but not much else worth noting. The mage backs away and hurries off, shaking his head. He can't risk losing his wits right now - this is, after all an important mission given to them by Mad King Gangrel himself. If he wanted fame and fortune, he'd need to hold on to his sanity for as long as he can. Which means not letting shadows and tricks of light confuse him.

After spending about five minutes talking to ten of their men, the mage figures that this number (which includes himself) is good enough support for Garrick's siege on the church. He begins his trek across town to the house of worship, zipping in and out of the alleyways and in-between houses to get there faster when he suddenly notices someone crawling on all fours just ahead of him.

A woman? It's definitely a woman. And she even stops moving to look at him blankly over her shoulder, a single arrow sticking out of her cloak pocket. He recognizes the arrow's fletching to be the black ones unique to Plegia.

Why would she have one in her possession...?

The mage immediately assumes that she is an enemy. He prepares his fire tome once more and points his fingers at her-

_STAB_

"Urrrrghh...!"

-when a killing edge, launched with incredible strength from seemingly out of nowhere, pierces him right through his neck. He collapses instantly, the tome flying out from his grasp.

* * *

"So this thing here controls the townspeople's water supply?" The myrmidon asks nobody in particular. "'Seal off the underground wells', he says... but can turning the iron bar here really shut off the water? As simple as that? How does it even work?"

"It isn't our job to question these things! If you don't want to get rich, step aside! Unlike you, I've got a date with all the treasure we plunder from these Ylisseans!" One of the barbarians declares, roughly shoving the younger recruit aside with his arm.

The three bandits had been very eager to please Garrick and be the first one to complete the special mission he'd given them, but when they got to the 'pump' itself the three had no idea how to actually make it work. To be fair, none of them were very good with these new fangled contraptions that were slowly gaining popularity among the poor folk far and wide. Perhaps they should've brought one of the mages with them - those intellectual types would probably figure it out in a snap.

The myrmidon narrows his eyes at the older man. "I won't have your shoving. Do it again, and I'll cut you down where you stand." His hand rests on the hilt of his blade.

"Oh yeah?" The barbarian taunts, shoving the swordsman once more, even harder than earlier.

The two fighters jump at each other, respective weapons already in hand. They never really liked each other to begin with, and they would accept any excuse to kill the other, no matter how petty. Meanwhile, the second barbarian already has both of his hands on the iron bar, and his face is one of pure and fierce concentration. He doesn't really care if the other two killed each other from their squabbles - that just means more of the spoils goes to him!

"Hmmm... I reckon it should be turned to the right..."

He turns the rusty, creaking bar to the right and waits. Nothing seems to happen.

"...Or maybe I should turn it to the left...?"

Behind him, the two brigands continue their heated duel, no longer focused on wealth or glory but on the other's bloody demise. They do not notice their immediate surroundings; each man is completely engrossed in whatever it is they are doing, and they definitely do not take heed of the hooded lady crawling slowly into the settlement and passing their position, pausing in the middle of the wide open dirt road to look at the dueling pair and the man standing at the pump for a very long moment before continuing on her merry way.

* * *

In the marketplace, two of three of the Shepherds are engaged in a drawn-out battle against seven bandits.

"Eat _this, _princeling!"

Chrom nimbly dodges to the left and to the right, just barely managing to avoid both barbarians' wild axe swipes. He jumps back several feet to put distance between him and his opponents, and when he hears the slightest of shuffling right behind him he swings his sword above and around, effectively parrying a third barbarian's surprise attack to his head. A few ways away, Frederick is trying to fend off the other four bandits and regroup with his prince, but his foes smartly keep their distance, keeping up the pressure on the knight so their pals could finish off Chrom. Lissa is missing in action; mere minutes after their arrival in the settlement the Shepherds had ended up in a chaotic skirmish with the brigands which ended up separating the siblings. The royal can only pray that wherever she is, she is safe and sound.

He grimaces and begins another frantic string of blocks, leaps and turns.

Chrom knows he can't keep this up for very long, and he is already starting to feel worn down.

The barbarians' coordinated three-way assault isn't letting up - their eyes are gleaming with ambition. Of course, the one who manages to cut off Chrom's head would become a hero back in Plegia! There is no way they would ever let the other man get all the money or the glory! But they also know that facing off against the royal one-by-one would mean their death, as evidenced by the number of brigands' bodies littered the streets so they have agreed to work together temporarily to protect their weak points while wearing down Chrom.

The prince soon finds himself with his back against the wall of one of the buildings, next to an abandoned fruit stand that is miraculously still untouched by the fire. He knows that if he doesn't find an opening soon, he'll be finished... and didn't they always say that a good offense was the best defense? Chrom decides that he'll need to take the plunge if he wants to help Frederick and find Lissa. He readies Falchion and prepares to leap straight for the advancing brigands, hoping to catch them off guard so he can-

Something hauntingly _familiar_ moves just on the outside of his line of vision, and against his better judgment he turns his gaze in that direction for a better look.

"I-it's _her_!" He stutters aloud, flabbergasted at what his eyes are showing him: it's the child-like woman they'd found out in the fields some time earlier, crawling on all fours just a few feet away and disappearing around a corner! "What is _she_ doing here?!" He is so distracted by the sight that he doesn't see where he is putting his foot down, and at the very last possible second he unceremoniously slips on a couple of banana peels which had spilled out from a nearby wooden crate of trash during the scuffle.

The barbarian standing in the forefront is already in the process of bringing his axe down upon Chrom's head, but because of Chrom's sudden slip the aim is way off, and he ends up banging the blade against the smooth stone wall with all his might instead. The barbarian promptly drops his weapon, his arms and fingers badly stunned from the impact and he falls backwards, crashing heavily into the other two unsuspecting brigands. Chrom takes advantage of the moment and jumps to his feet, immediately stabbing the first brigand and heavily wounding the other two.

The tables have now turned, and not a moment too soon!

Three minutes later, Chrom and Frederick finally finish off every last bandit in the area.

"Milord, I have heard them talk of laying siege on the local church," the knight informs the royal. "There is a good chance that most of the townspeople are hiding there."

"Then we'll have to head over once we find Lissa."

In Chrom's mind, he figures that he probably imagined seeing the strange lady in the cloak earlier, so he has no need to inform Frederick. Besides, why would she even be here in the first place?

"Halt, brigand! Or die where you stand!" Frederick orders harshly, his silver spear already out and waiting.

Chrom looks up to see a mage, his hat and clothes thoroughly soaked from head to foot. He has his lightning tome in his hands, but he throws it onto the ground angrily. Judging from the way it looks, the prince correctly assumes that the tome itself is also utterly drenched and therefore unusable.

The mage curses. "I am really not getting paid enough for this," he mutters aloud, putting up his hands in the universal sign for surrender. "First some stupid random female holds everybody up, then all of my gear gets damaged by sewer water, and now I'm at the mercy of the prince's cute little vigilante group. Can this day get any worse for me?!"

"I promise you it will be much worse than any of your pitiful experiences if you don't start talking," Frederick says with a cheerful smile, the lance glinting eeriely in the daylight. His _hell's angel smile _to be exact, Chrom liked to call it.

"Urk! I'll talk, I'll talk!" The mage breaks down all too quickly. "J-just keep that thing away from my throat!"

* * *

"Oh my gosh! What are _you_ doing here?!" Lissa gasps aloud.

"Who was that?!"

Lissa grabs the cloaked lady and drags her into her wine barrel, which she had been hiding in. Once she is certain that the brigands are long gone she removes the hand she had clamped over the weird lady's face and hisses, "Why are you here?! It's too dangerous for you! Didn't Chrom tell you to stay put where we left you or something?! What is he _thinking_?!"

"...?"

"...Then again, you probably don't really understand regular speech all that much, do you?"

The princess climbs out of the barrel first and then helps the mysterious female out as well. "Hey, why are your clothes so dirty?" Lissa wondered aloud. "Did you really crawl to town from all the way where we left you? Sheesh, you're a handful. I don't think I was this naughty when I was younger... or was I?"

To the healer's terror, the child-woman makes a beeline for the north in the fastest crawl she had ever beheld. "Hey, wait! Hold on a second! Where are you going?! We have to stick together or the brigands will get us! We have to find my brother and Frederick as soon as possible! Are you even listening?!"

"You!"

Lissa hears a very disgusting-sounding drawl from a few yards away and freezes on the spot.

"Round up anyone who isn't transporting goods and direct them to the church!" The voice growls. "We'll slaughter those fools and paint Naga's prayer halls red!"

_Oh no_, Lissa thinks. _This is bad - all of the bandits are going to congregate at the church. It's best to stay away for now and find Chrom and Frederick to let them know what's happening. Then we can leave this woman in a safe place and finally take care of those awful-_

Something catches Lissa's eye - further down the alleyway is a small puddle of dirty water. It's murky, but she can still see the reflection of the mage that was slowly creeping down the alley towards their hiding spot in the shadows, fire tome in hand. Lissa squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, her heart racing a mile a minute. If the mage found her, she would quite literally be toast!

To her relief, he backs off and runs off at last, most likely to do as that first guy ordered him to. Perhaps he was the leader of the brigands...?

"...H-huh? Where did she go?!" Lissa cried, whirling around, searching desperately for her companion.

She has vanished without a trace.

Lissa has half a mind to search for her, but then she glances up. From her vantage point, she can see the bell tower of the cathedral.

_I need to warn the people before its too late!  
_

* * *

"Nat, the brigands have begun concentrating their attacks on the cathedral! The door isn't going to hold much longer at this rate!" One of the women who are acting as lookouts screamed. "What are we supposed to do now?! If they get inside, we'll be slaughtered without mercy!" The other women, the elderly and the children shudder with every heavy THUMP on wood coming from outside, and they huddle together way at the other end of the house of worship while panicking and crying. At the woman's warning they are even more frightened than ever.

Nat and a couple of the other townsmen, who also make up the town militia have formed a half circle closer to the entrance, whispering their ideas frantically and fiercely to each other.

"Nat, most of our guys were already slain out there. The ten of us can't possibly stand up to the brigands' might alone!" Ritz, the town blacksmith points out nervously. "And if they manage to get inside, they could take our families hostage! Not even my muscles could help us then! We'd be sitting ducks, lined up on the gallery!"

"Not to mention two of us are already wounded..." Diether the grocer mutters sadly, referring to himself and Roland the baker's husband; earlier the pair had been the ones to hold off the myrmidons who tried to give chase to the citizens who were taking refuge inside the church, and both sustained bad cuts on their arms and shoulders. "Nat, I've got a plan, but you might not like it."

"...Let's hear it," Nat allows, clutching his bronze spear. He is the town physician, but he knows that there are times when he must take up arms to protect the people he cares about. But that does not mean that he wants his fellow men to rush headlong into battle. There are some wounds that even he, a doctor, could not heal...

"I'm much worse off than the rest of us, so I volunteer to stay here and hold off those rapscallions for as long as I can while the rest of you escape out the secret passageway behind the altar."

"Y-you can't be serious, good man! They'll skin you alive!" Hammuel the stable hand and the youngest member of town security cuts in, eyes wide with distress. "Think about all your friends! Your wife! Your newborn son, Jeremiah! You can't abandon your life like that!"

"He's right, Diet," Nat adds sternly. "You, me, and everyone in this town are family. And we don't ever leave our family members behind."

"_Then what do you propose we do_?!" Diether shouts. "We're running out of time doctor, my brothers, and if we don't come up with a plan soon we'll _all_ be sent to the slaughterhouse equally! We can't stay holed up in here forever, either - or have you already forgotten that we can't draw up fresh water anymore? Those blasted bandits probably did something to our network water supply. They want us to suffer in here and watch our town burn to the ground! We don't have time to hesitate anymore!"

The men begin talking over each other, arguing back and forth about sacrifices and their families and unforgivable Plegian dastards.

"EEEEEEEEEK!"

The chorus of female screams splits through the tension in the air like a hot knife through butter. All of the men momentarily stop fighting and turn around to look at the unarmed citizens, who have begun crowding around the offerings altar and conferring frantically with each other. Nat and his militia pals shoulder their way through the crowds to get a look at whatever it is that scared their wives so willy-nilly - and their mouths drop open in shock.

A hooded lady's head is sticking out of the hidden trapdoor behind the altar, a wide and silly-looking grin on her face. Her eyes glance around at everything and everyone, sparkling with unadulterated excitement, and she slowly starts wiggling her way out of the trapdoor and into the church.

Nat's eyebrow twitches.

"What in Naga's name...?"

* * *

"Well well well! Look what we've got here, boys!"

The mute woman does not spare the thugs even the tiniest glance, and single-mindedly carries on with her utterly important self-imposed mission: pulling a very pretty, painted decorative stone out from the base of a pillar in the town plaza. It had apparently attracted her attention once she had made it to the burning settlement, and she has been trying to dislodge it ever since. On the ground next to her crouching form is a small pile of pretty stones that greatly resemble the one she is trying to acquire. Nevermind the fact that nearly everything is on fire and citizens are running for their lives, screaming.

"Oy, girlie! Don'tcha Ylissean types pay respect to everyone equally, friend or stranger?" The archer leered. "Now turn around like a good little lamb and lemme see your face!"

"Mgh..."

The woman either does not hear him or chooses to ignore him outright, wrapping both of her dainty hands around the partially loosened stone and yanking with all her might. Her cheeks are slightly flushed from her efforts, and her eyes are squeezed shut in great concentration. Behind her, the brigands slowly become irate from the lack of fear and groveling on the woman's part.

The archer has had enough of this ruse. He nocks an arrow on his bow, aims it right at her head and releases.

_Swoop! Thwock!_

The arrow zips right by her head and lands on the ground, just a little past the pillar.

"Bwahahahaha! You getting old, chump?!" The myrmidon guffaws. "She isn't even a moving target, and less than eight feet away!"

"S-shut up! I know I was right on the mark!" The archer protests, face reddening from anger and embarrassment. "A little gust of wind saved her, that's all!"

"Stop blaming your failures on the forces of nature and let a_ real man_ take care of this," the myrmidon boasts, unsheathing his killing edge and waving it around contemptuously.

"And I'd like you to know that I- BWARGH?!"

The archer was about to retort, only to receive an intense stream of dirty water blast the side of his head from his right. The pressure is so strong, he can almost see stars, and he drops his bow and arrow in the process. He tries to move himself out of harm's way but more and more of the murky greenish fluid erupts from all around him, striking him like heavy punches, clogging his ears and stinging his eyeballs. He is unable to discern where the sewer water is coming from, and eventually he slumps to the paved ground, unconscious.

His two companions, the myrmidon and a mage, dodge the powerful geysers of water as best as they possibly can and glance around the plaza frantically for signs of an ambushing enemy. There are none. The water seems to be spraying right out of a couple of random small holes in the ground, and even from the pillars that encircle the plaza.

"Uwaa...!"

The female pulls out her precious stone at last, falling backwards onto her derriere with a thud. Even _more_ water begins gushing forth from the hole she has created, soaking up the mage from the tip of his hat to the soles of his shoes.

"I don't get paid enough for this. I'm going to meet with our boss at the church." The mage distastefully sweeps his drenched cloak aside and dashes out of the plaza to safety.

The myrmidon gets sprayed right in the eyes, but he can still see the girl crawling away from the scene and into one of the nearby alleyways, his comrade's missed arrow sticking out of her pocket. Like _hell_ was he going to let that wench get away with her life...! He twirls around his killer edge in his fingers until it's positioned like a throwing spear and launches it in the general direction of the girl just as yet another burst of sewer water gets him right at the back of his head.

_STAB_

"Urrrrghh...!"

He hears the grunt of pain in the distance and smiles to himself, satisfied, thinking that he finally nailed the arrogant little puke before slipping into unconsciousness as well.

* * *

It is no use - Lissa has been lurking around the perimeter of the church as stealthily as she could for the past seven minutes but she cannot find a way inside besides the front doors. She could probably rest easy, knowing that the building is well-fortified... but what if an enemy managed to get in? The townspeople would have no way out!

Lissa makes her fifth round behind the church when she spots a familiar figure.

"You!" She whispers loudly, suprised, dashing over to where the hooded lady crouched. She is digging messily through the dirt with both of her hands. Lissa glances around and spotted an arrow, a couple of shiny stones that were the size of Lissa's hand and two tomes: fire and lightning. "Could it be... are you burying your treasure? We really don't have time for this... and just where did you get all this stuff, anyways? Is this what you have been doing this entire time since you vanished on me? Treasure-hunting?" The princess giggles. "Sheesh, you are so carefree!"

The woman makes no reply - Lissa doesn't expect one anymore because she's used to it by now - and continues ferociously digging up the dirt.

...Honestly speaking, the princess feels very glad that the lady seems unaware of what's going on in town. She does not want her new friend to stress out so soon after waking up, and her innocence was contagious - Lissa doesn't remember the last time she ever laughed so hard and so much, even if it was at her brother's expense. The princess may have been joking earlier but now she really does want to take the woman home with them, maybe even have her live in the castle with them! Emmeryn would definitely adore her, Lissa knew.

"...Suppose I'll have to help you, then. Otherwise you'll take up too much time and the brigands could find us here." The princess kneels on the ground and starts digging up dirt as well. At first it grosses her out because of the texture of the soil and the smell of earth wafting up her nose but she eventually learns to tilt her head to one side, take a deep breath through her mouth and then breathe out through her nose.

"By the way, why are your clothes wet? Did you play in a puddle or something- OWW!" Lissa yelps all of a sudden. Her fingers have just knocked against something hard and rough. Further inspection reveals an old, wooden trapdoor. "Oh my gosh..." With a slight tug on the handles, it pops right open, and a musty smells assaults Lissa's nose.

"-Achoo!"

The princess looks up, startled by the noise. Beside her, the cloaked female scrunches up her nose and eyes and sneezes again.

"Hee hee! Even your sneezes are adorable! ...H-huh? Hey, wait, don't just go in there! Wait!"

She ignores Lissa completely, of course, and she soon vanishes into the darkness of the trapdoor. No matter how hard she tries, the royal just can't see her.

"...Now I know what it's like to have a younger sister!"

Taking a deep breath, the tomboy princess climbs down into the trapdoor after her.

* * *

"What in Naga's name...?"

The other citizens echo Nat's sentiments, murmuring amongst themselves about the mysterious female who has somehow discovered the church's hidden passageway. Said female is now sitting on the floor next to the trapdoor, looking around with amazement and wonder. It's almost... comical to the doctor. At the very least, she doesn't seem to be hostile. He is about to step forward to assist her to her feet when a voice echoes from within the trapdoor-

"Oof! I suppose secret passageways barely get any chance to be cleaned, being a secret and everthing," a young lady with blonde hair pulled into pigtails remarks, her head popping out of the trapdoor. She glances around at the townspeople and sighs aloud with relief. "I'm glad I made it! Everybody, please hear me out!"

"I think we'll take you more seriously if you climb out of there first little lady," Nat jokes gently, stepping forward and holding out both of his hands for her to take. He easily hauls her right out from the hole and onto her feet. "I believe some introductions are in order before we can continue. My name is Nathaniel, and I'm the town physician," Nat says amiably. He then points out who the members of the town militia are, their wives and children, and just about everybody else. "If I'm not mistaken, you are our exalt's younger sister, Lissa?"

"That's right!" Lissa cheers, waving to the townspeople and earning a chuckle from some of them. "I'm also a member of the Shepherds!"

"The Shepherds?!" One woman cries excitedly. "Does that mean what I think it means?! W-we'll all be saved?!"

The royal's smile falters a bit. "Yes and no. Two other members of the Shepherds are definitely here in town, but right now they are out there fighting the brigands! I ended up getting separated from them during one of the earlier skirmishes, which brings me to the bad news: most of those foul miscreants are on their way to this very church as we speak."

The people gasp, and Nat nods his head grimly. "We had figured as much. Princess Lissa, how quickly will your comrades-in-arms arrive at the church?"

"I am sure they have dealt with many of the bandits by now... they will soon realize that the brigands are gathering around this area."

"I see..." The physician turns around and faces his friends. "Well, everyone? Can we hold our position until the cavalry arrive to save us?"

"You read too many of those war stories, Nat," the man who was introduced as Diether points out. "But I suppose we could come up with a plan or two to keep those damned Plegian dastards busy. Right, boys?!"

"AYE!" The other men shout as one.

Nat is about to walk off with his fellow men when Lissa discreetly tugs at the sleeve of his shirt. "Um, Doctor, could I ask you a favor?"

"What is it?"

"It's- it's about my friend..." Lissa points at the cloaked woman, who has made herself comfortable on the floor and is fiddling with her stones and the arrow with rapt attention, completely oblivious to the action and tension all around her. "She... well, the truth is the Shepherds and I found her all alone, out in the fields... and- and while I'm not much of a healer yet, I believe she may have a mental illness. Could you take a look at her, Doctor Nathaniel?"

"Please, call me Nat. Everybody does. And of course I'll take a look at her - right now, if you want."

"Really?!" Lissa hops up and down with delight. "Thank you, oh thank you so much!"

The physician approaches the mysterious stranger carefully and kneels in front of her, catching her attention. "Hello, miss. Your friend, the princess Lissa would like me to give you a little check-up. May I?"

"..."

"Hmmm..." Nat strokes his chin thoughtfully at the woman's blank yet cheerful eyes, her physical form and demeanor, and her lack of response to his inquiry before turning back to Lissa, who has been watching the entire time. "If this is indeed a mental illness plaguing the young miss, then I'm afraid I do not have the proper instruments at hand to confirm if it is there... could you give me a list of her visible symptoms?"

Lissa recounts the events that have happened with her brother on their way to the town. Once she finishes, the doctor nods his head once and says, "As I have told you before, I lack the proper instruments to give you a proper diagnosis but as fellow healers, let me share with you my thoughts instead."

"Please, doctor!"

"You say that you found her collapsed in the fields, unconscious. Correct? Then perhaps she may have recently survived a very traumatic event, which caused her mind to regress to that of a child. Think of it as her body's self-defense mechanism of sorts."

Lissa's face goes pale. "So... she..."

"If my hypothesis is right on track, then... whatever happened to her, she could not handle it and thus her mind protects her by 'turning back the clock' to a time she did not have any fears." Nat shakes his head and looks at the strange woman with a bit of pity. "I recommend that she stay in this town to recover... the countryside will do wonders for her health, and one day she may even heal, if not completely then at least enough to live independently."

Lissa looks at the female sadly. The physician's recommendation was sound.

...The princess would be lonely, but perhaps leaving the hooded lady here to recover really is the best option for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Special credit goes to my nephew once again, who designed this story's "book cover"; the story scenes are now back in (relative) order.

* * *

Stop and think for a second.

Suppose you hear about Grima the Felldragon for the very first time, and all of those accompanying tales about the dragon's first descent - mass destruction of entire kingdoms, people all over the world dying in droves, the end of civilization as we know it. Suppose you also hear about nameless heroes who somehow manage to halt this powerful Felldragon with the help of another dragon, who happens to be the god you and the people of your home casually worship. It sounds so _fantastical_, so _mysterious_ and so _unreal_, you write off these villains and heroes as the stuff of old wives' fairy tales and promptly forget about them, only to recall them when you go out with your friends because they make for interesting conversation over alcohol.

After all, you're just an ordinary person; there's no way anyone or anything as 'otherworldly' and 'legendary' as that would ever pop up in your lifetime, much less right in front of you. Dragons, gods and heroes are somebody else's problem. You would rather take the immediate problems like money, war, famine, work or bandit attacks more seriously. Right?

But suppose though, something _fantastical_, _mysterious_ and _unreal_ were to really happen to you.

What would you do?

* * *

Not all of the townspeople made it to the church safely. The mayor and his personal guards were the first to fall to the brigands' might, followed by a couple of foolishly reckless men who thought they could show them a thing or two, and a couple of innocent bystanders who couldn't move fast enough because of their fear. Other brave members of the town militia had sacrificed their lives to secure an escape route to the church and keep the scoundrels occupied. Still other remaining stragglers were still out and about the town, trying to keep the flames under control. Who knows if they've still alive?

Lissa moves from person to person, healing the townspeople's wounds with her staff. She also speaks to them with a strong, determined yet gentle gaze and voice - sympathizing with their pain over their lost kin, comforting them and reassuring them in the only way she can. She is truly their princess, Nat thinks with a smile, watching the young blonde move about the cathedral. In the short time between her arrival and now, Lissa had successfully established some semblance of peace and order among the common folk. Everyone was moving, doing something to either help the royal or each other. Lissa had done what Nat could not do - unite the people under a common goal and inspire them to keep going even in this bleak situation.

"Doctor, can I borrow a needle and thread?" One of the women asks Nathaniel. "I'd like to stitch my father's belt back together so his pantaloons won't fall down when we make our escape."

"Sure thing... huh?" When he checks the contents of his bag, Nat discovers that the box that contained his special emergency needles is missing. He gives the patiently waiting woman an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry... I don't have them on me at the moment. I think I left them back at home." At the back of his mind, he can't help but wonder if he really did forget them or not. It isn't as if he takes them out of his doctor's bag often...

"It's alright, I'll just ask someone else." The woman leaves.

"Nat." Diether approaches the physician with a grim seriousness. "The brigands are beginning to gather in front of the church. It's just as the princess told us."

"And so? Is everyone prepared to evacuate out the secret entrance?"

"Yes. Our guys will start dousing everything in alcohol and set everything on fire as soon as you give us the signal."

Nat considered this for a moment before glancing at his long time friend in confusion. "...When_ I_ give the signal? Why me?"

"You have been leading the citizens this whole time. You have to finish what you've started, brother." Diether notices the cloaked female crawling slowly closer to them and smiles at her in a fond, fatherly way. "We men need to follow through with the plan, otherwise those Plegian creeps will keep coming back to our town to mess with us. We need to teach them not to underestimate us small folk, right little lady?"

"Uguu."

She loudly plops down onto the wooden floor and reveals a decorative stone carefully cupped in both of her palms. With cheeks flushed with pride and a wide grin, she offers it up towards Nathaniel.

Nat returns her smile with one of his own. "Oh, is this for me?" The stone greatly reminds him of the ones the doctor has seen around town. On closer inspection he concludes that it probably is, but Nat decides to let it slide because when he was younger, he was also fond of collecting these stones - tempted by the thrill of adventure, he wanted to be the first one to find that legendary treasure.

He'd grown up hearing stories of the first exalt's battle with Grima, the Felldragon. It was said that a part of the first exalt's shield was bequeathed to one of his most trusted soldiers for safekeeping; this very town is supposed to be that soldier's final resting place. The treasure is supposedly hidden somewhere around here... Nat collected the stones, thinking that it had been concealed inside one of them. Now that he is older he knows it's impossible, though.

The stone that the female has just given him is heavier than he remembers them to be, and shaped like a lemon. He stows it away into his coat pocket for safekeeping and flashes the female another grin. "Thank you, I'll be sure to treasure it." Perhaps she could not comprehend his words, but Nathaniel knew that gratitude could be felt and understood even by children... or in this particular case, by a grown woman with a child's mind.

Diether watches the woman crawl away to rejoin the princess who was currently speaking to a group of old women, and leans closer to his friend. "I've been meaning to ask you, doc... what's wrong with her? She hasn't done a single thing that makes any sense. And she doesn't walk or talk, either."

There is one other thing besides those that Nat noticed about the hooded lady as well but he decides to keep this observation to himself; he did not inform the princess about it, either. It wasn't anything particularly alarming, but...

Why is the girl so calm?

Nat found the tales of prince Chrom becoming the girl's object of chaste, sisterly affection very amusing, but everything Lissa had told him about the woman's adventures and behavior in town made him wonder. Children are very empathetic - they usually reflect the emotions the adults could feel. Happiness, anger... fear. There is no doubt that the citizens, Nat himself included, were very afraid for their lives despite their show of bravado. The atmosphere is undeniably tense, even with princess Lissa's optimistic presence and her attempts at cheering up the people. So then why is the cloaked female acting as if nothing is wrong?

Nat watches as Lissa bends down and gives the stranger a bear hug, swaying side to side in a playful manner. The female in question is smiling as well, and returns the hug with the same amount of enthusiasm.

Could it be the innocence of youth?

Or...

"Nat?" Diether repeats when his friend does not respond. "Is it a secret? Patient confidentiality, and all that? If so, I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. I can tell you - I just lost focus for a moment."

Even while speaking to other people and performing other tasks, Nat can't help but keep watch on the girl out of the corner of his eye. He only has basic knowledge of illnesses that affect human minds so the woman's condition is very interesting to him. If Princess Lissa and Prince Chrom agree to his proposal for the stranger to remain under his care, he could learn firsthand about her symptoms with even the simplest of interactions alone, at his own pace... perhaps one day he could even discover a way to treat patients like her in the future, furthering the study of medicine in the halidom.

...Somehow, a few minutes later the man loses sight of the nameless girl among the throngs of townspeople bustling around. Nathaniel carefully searches up and down the floors and the pews for the easily-identifiable cloak she wore but his efforts are in vain. An ominous feeling wells deep inside his gut; the doctor decides to speak to the royal about the girl just to make sure she is still inside the building, if only to reassure himself.

"Princess Lissa, if I may ask - where did your friend go?"

"My what? Huh? Oh, you mean...?" Lissa glances around, puzzled, before turning her attention back to the physician with a shrug. "I just realized that I don't know her name! ...I think she got bored of sitting around all the time. Maybe she went exploring? She seems to like going off on her own; it's near impossible for me to keep track of her all by myself!"

"I... I see," Nathaniel says slowly, absorbing this information with a slight frown. He's honestly feeling shocked at Lissa's flippant reply and her apparent lack of concern. "Is it wise to leave her to her own devices, milady?"

"As long as she's somewhere inside the church, I suppose it would be safe enough for her?"

"NAT!"

Ritz the blacksmith hollers out over the din from his post near the barred front doors.

"You need to see this! Come quick! It's an emergency!"

"Why? What's happening? Have the brigands discovered another way inside?!" Nat approaches the man briskly, Lissa trailing not too far behind. All it takes is a single empathetic gesture from the town blacksmith for the doctor and the royal to understand the gravity of the situation. The young princess' hands fly to cover her mouth and stifle a scream. Nathaniel feels as if he is on the verge of screaming himself, and it takes a heroic mount of self-control to keep himself from ripping his hair from his head from frustration. "Ogre's teeth, how did she...?! HOW?!"

"I swear on both my muscles and my honor that I had nothing to do with it!" Ritz insists hurriedly, rubbing the back of his head in confusion and bewilderment. Just like Lissa and Nat, he and a couple of the other men hanging around nearby can't bring themselves to tear their gazes away from the large arched windows and the jaw-dropping view: just beyond the glass they can see the hooded lady herself, still smiling as cheerfully as ever, creeping along the ledge_ outside_ the cathedral, _right above the group of bandits who were still trying to knock the door down_. Nat still didn't have the faintest idea why she was so carefree, but the woman's whimsical actions were seriously endangering everybody at this very moment.

No! Not on his watch!

"I don't CARE who's responsible Ritz, I just want to know how she even managed to get outside in the first place! Wasn't anybody keeping an eye out?!" Nathaniel barks, throwing both of his hands upwards in disbelief. "Somebody, anybody, get her back down! These Plegian interlopers may outnumber us greatly, but save a few of their mages and their leader they aren't the brightest I've seen. But if even one of them notices her woolgathering up on those ledges it'll only be a matter of time before they discover a different way inside the church! The absolute last thing we need is one of the bandits discovering another way inside before we secure the place! If nobody wants to do it, then give me a boost up! Gods, all they would have to do is look up and she'll be finished...!"

Hammuel the stable hand scratches his head. "But Nat, if they see her up there, won't they just try to kill her? Since they aren't so smart."

"...Are you insinuating we leave the poor girl to _die_?"

"O-of course not!"

"Then our next course of action is clear. We get her back down to safety - dragging her by the collar if needed - and then assign somebody to watch her so she doesn't complicate the situation further!"

"Or, we could just tie her up so once it's time to flee, I can carry her over my shoulder!" Ritz suggests. He flexes his arms for emphasis. "With these muscles, I can do anything!"

"So you're volunteering to recover the girl? Perfect. I feel very reassured to know you'll be doing this for me, since you always remind us of how your muscles can make miracles." Nat claps Ritz on his shoulder. Hard. "Shall we get going, then?"

Ritz's face pales. But before he can protest, he hears a strange noise coming from outside the cathedral. Nat, Lissa, and the other townspeople come to a halt. They can hear it, too: someone from outside is shouting. A lot.

Lissa's face lights up with recognition and hope. "That voice... there's no mistaking it! It's my brother, Chrom! He's finally here!"

"Ritz, hurry and take a look!"

"Already on it!"

The ladders have already been destroyed, so Ritz is given a boost up by a couple of other guys to the closest foothold which he immediately steps on, his arms latching themselves around the uniquely carved stone column. As he slowly worms his way upwards to the windows, the prince's yelling stops all of a sudden, and the citizens murmur amongst themselves with concern and speculation, even as Ritz pulls himself up to the wooden walkway and looks out. "Nat, you won't believe this!" The blacksmith's excited yammering can be heard from every corner of the cathedral. "Those wretched bandits are abandoning the church to attack Prince Chrom! Most of them, anyways, but good news for us all the same!"

"You insensitive fool! Have you already forgotten that Princess Lissa is _right here_?! And if Prince Chrom dies in our town, we'll be eaten alive by our fellow Ylisseans!" Diether growls. "Nat, what say you? Shall we carry out our plan?"

"...Yes," Nat agrees after a beat. "We no longer have the luxury to wait this out. Tell the men to begin emptying those barrels of alcohol, and assign one of our guys to guide the women and children out the secret passageway. Once Ritz and I recover the girl, we torch this place."

* * *

Something is on the loose.

* * *

Chrom slinks along the walls of the abandoned houses under the cover of darkness. His eyes are already tearing up slightly from the fumes of the fires and he is covered in head to toe with sweat, mud and dried blood. When he hears the loud voices of the brigands just a few yards away, he stops and crouches low to the ground, preparing to ambush the closest group of enemies.

"Here, sheepy sheepy! Come to the slaughter!" The bandit that he assumes to be the leader is screaming taunts at the cathedral's solidly sealed entrance. A couple of barbarians are trying to ram their way through the tough, thick double doors of the building with a log. If the prince cranes his neck out a bit farther, he could make out six other enemies roving in and around the marketplace impatiently. There are most likely more of them deeper within.

After hearing what the drenched mage had to say about the brigands' operations, Frederick had incapacitated the man and suggested to Chrom to split up and trap the first group of bandits wandering around the northern marketplace in a pincer movement. Chrom would have the advantage, and he'd discreetly take down two or three of them no problem while the knight took care of the rest.

The royal never found his sister amongst the small handfuls of innocents he'd met and evacuated to safer locations in town; he hopes with all his heart that she is inside the church alongside the other trapped citizens. This makes him even more desperate to defeat these bandits once and for all.

He slowly counts off in his head.

_One... two... three... NOW!_

Chrom jumps out of his hiding spot, Falchion's unbreakable blade flashing in the late afternoon sun. The closest barbarian is slain before he can cry for help, and his body slumps soundlessly to the cobblestones. An archer falls just as quickly and easily, and his corpse is lugged on top of the barbarian's to prevent other enemies from taking notice. The second barbarian the royal comes across poses a bit of a challenge thanks to his throwing axe but after a few seconds of intense close combat and constant pressure he, too, falls victim to Chrom's steel.

...That's three down. So far, so good.

The next step is for Chrom to rendezvous with Frederick in the center of the marketplace while taking down any stragglers along the way so they don't attract any attention from the group of brigands in front of the church. Chrom crouches low next to an abandoned wooden push cart, watching and waiting for any enemies that he might've attracted from his encounter with the barbarian with the throwing axe. He can hear the brigands in front of the cathedral even more clearly than before - just a bit further, and he'll be right on top of them with Frederick. It won't be long now: the townspeople will be saved.

A full minute passes. He can't see any telltale shadows of roving bandits from where he is, so he steels himself and cranes his neck so he can look out from around the side of the cart. There is nobody around, and it's very quiet. Chrom frowns - something about this doesn't sit right with him. He knows that there are still enemies lurking around the marketplace, so where are they? Did Frederick already take care of them? But if that were the case, the knight would've shown up already. Chrom's gaze flicks momentarily to the cathedral to count the brigands trying to seize the building of worship. All ten of them present and accounted for. No extra men hanging around. So, just where-?

The prince suddenly notices someone moving about on the small ledge right above the brigands.

"...What?"

Chrom can't believe what he is seeing with his own eyes: it's the strange cloaked woman in the flesh, crawling along the long ledge of the cathedral wall on her hands and knees. When her gaze meets his from all the way across the wide marketplace he freezes, as if staying perfectly still could make him invisible to her. To his increasing horror a huge beaming smile stretches across her face and she takes one, two steps forward before the prince realizes she is about to crawl right off the ledge.

"NOOOOO!" Chrom shrieks at the top of his lungs without a second thought, leaping out of his hiding place onto his feet and flailing his arms. His current position is forgotten; stealth and subterfuge are equally tossed out the metaphorical window. In response to his crazed yelling, every single bandit in the area stops what they're doing to look at him; even the group of men trying to break into the cathedral pauses mid-shove. The royal doesn't notice how much attention he has garnered and continues; he just can't let the woman fall to her death from her boundless excitement at seeing him - his conscience wouldn't let him. He _needs_ to save her from her impending tragic end!

He feels his heart ease slightly when she stops in place, staring at him blankly for a few beats with wide eyes. Has Naga graced him with her divine intervention? Is it possible that she understands what he is trying to tell her? "Just stay there! Don't move! I'll be there in just a moment; under no circumstances should y- NO! STOOOP!" His heart began pounding even faster and harder than before when she simply turned a bit and began slinking sideways. At this rate, she would fall off the side of the cathedral!

Unconsciously, the prince begins to move sideways as well, trying to keep the lady within his line of vision while coaxing her to stay put with all the charm everyone around him claimed he possessed. "_Please! Stop!_" His voice is already growing quite hoarse from straining his vocal chords so much. "If you don't, you- ACK!" Unaware of his surroundings, Chrom trips and pitches over sideways when his foot catches underneath one of the dead brigands' bodies he'd just taken care of a few minutes ago. At the same time, he feels the familiar ringing of iron being swung, and when he looks behind him he sees that he had been very close to getting decapitated by a myrmidon that had somehow snuck up on him.

"Milord!" Frederick appears out of nowhere on his horse and closes the distance between himself and the royal in an instant, skewering the myrmidon right through his forehead. "Milord, are you hurt?! I heard you screaming so I rushed here as fast as I could! It is my own fault for not properly keeping watch for the enemy's movements." The man's armor, which is usually so clean and polished, is dripping with fresh blood. Chrom figures that none of it actually belongs to Frederick - it's a clear testament to how desperate the neat-freak knight was to save his charge.

"No, I'm quite alright... but Frederick,_ look_!"

To the prince's immense relief, the girl he is pointing at has stopped moving. She is looking behind her at the windows; someone inside the church is probably trying to get her back safely inside, thank the gods.

"So, the assassin is here as well." Frederick narrows his eyes. "...Surely there is no need for me to explain there is more to her than meets the eye, milord. Her presence in town is undeniable proof."

Chrom remains completely silent, but he understands what his guardian is saying: while not impossible, it's highly unlikely that someone as handicapped as her could survive without a scratch for very long in this chaos. Crawling could only take you so far, and these bandits attacked anyone who wasn't a part of their group on sight. She would have died three times over in normal circumstances. And why did she come to town in the first place?

"...Frederick, we can't disregard the other possible explanations. Perhaps she was discovered by Lissa or one of the citizens hiding inside the cathedral and brought her to safety."

"All the same, milord. With war looming on the horizon, our Plegian neighbors would want to demoralize our people and spread panic as much as possible. They've already proved not to be above sending assassins."

Chrom closes his eyes and thinks back to the handful of moments he has spent with the female. He remembers her unabashed and unburdened cheerfulness, her insatiable desire to stay as physically close to him as possible, Lissa's obvious endearment towards her, and the way she looked at him when he tried to leave her behind to save the burning town. Chrom reviews every detail in his mind's eye, and he asks himself if this is what assassin is like.

"You bring up good points as always, my friend. Without you tirelessly watching over us, who knows what might've happened to Lissa and I as we grew up?"

"Your happiness and well-being is always first and foremost in my mind. This includes Her Grace, Lady Emmeryn as well."

"It's been fifteen years now, hasn't it? And you know us so well, you can anticipate our thoughts and actions as if they were your own."

"...Milord-"

"I can't condemn a lone, lost woman no matter what her past associations. The Shepherds will always lend their strength to those in need without regards for race, ethnicity or religion. My siblings and I are grateful to you for your unwavering support... But this is what Emm would have wanted. Lissa and I want this as well."

Frederick takes one look at the royal's determined face and bows his head. "Of course milord. You have always admired your sister's principles, and you will always strive to live by them." His voice is tempered, neutral and unflinchingly polite.

Chrom isn't sure if his words have gone through to the older man - but he has no time left on his hands to make his inquiry, for every single bandit in the area is approaching their position, swarming the marketplace in hopes to overcome them with their sheer numbers.

The battle is hectic at first - Chrom can only keep out of harm's way and rely on Frederick's mobility and skill to scatter the enemies' positions enough before landing well-timed killing blows. This proved very difficult to do because all of the brigands were aggressively trying to attack all at once, and at least half of them were armed with throwing axes. But the brigands fall one by one, and after about six minutes the enemies' numbers have dwindled enough for the prince to keep track of, and he shifts to the offensive. Between the pair, the bandits are dealt with at an ever faster rate.

"Milord! The cathedral doors - they're wide open!"

Frederick's sudden alarmed cry shakes Chrom to the core, and he almost gets killed for the third time that day. He swiftly cuts down the offending barbarian and flicks his gaze out towards the church-

_The church is on fire, and the leader of the brigands is nowhere to be seen. The entrance is wide open, true to Frederick's words._

"But, how?! Why?! I thought the doors were strong enough to keep them at bay!"

The prince begins moving even faster, desperate to finish this encounter so he can make a break for the cathedral to see to the townspeople's safety. On the other hand the remaining bandits have caught on to his dilemma and grin at him maliciously, purposely avoiding coming to direct blows with the frenzied royal to keep him occupied. "It's already too late to save your little sheep, Prince Chrom!" A myrmidon leers. "Garrick's one of the most heartless men I've ever had the pleasure to work for. You won't be able to identify the corpses once he's through with those twerps, heheheheh!" The other brigands find this revelation hilarious and chuckle amongst themselves.

In the distance, the church doors abruptly slam shut.

Chrom grits his teeth and charges towards them with all the righteous indignation he felt. At the back of his mind, he's praying.

* * *

Something is on the loose.

* * *

The princess, the militia and the townspeople have managed to escape out the secret entrance just fine, and Nat had been prepared to trap the remaining brigands inside, bringing the whole building down upon them. Thanks to the cooperative effort of the citizens, the beams that supported the wooden roof and walkways were all but destroyed - all it would take is one little tug of the rope fastened to the makeshift stopper to send it all crashing down. Of course, this plan wouldn't work without someone inside the cathedral to seal off the doors to keep Garrick and his cronies from escaping, set off the trap itself and light the fire... which is the very reason why Nat stayed behind. He could not save the other townspeople who were killed when the bandits first attacked, so he decided that he would atone for his shortcomings by giving up his own life.

That _was_ the plan, but now he couldn't even do that.

"Let her go!" Nat pleads, his voice trembling with fear. "She's an innocent patient who has suffered horrors we cannot even imagine. Leave her be, I beg you!"

Somehow, the cloaked girl had been left behind. One of the two mages accompanying Garrick had discovered her sleeping on one of the wooden pews and Garrick had promptly taken her hostage. The two mages are sent away to search for the fleeing innocents behind the church.

"If she has suffered that much already then what difference does it make if I do THIS?!" Garrick pulls his booted foot back as far as he could and kicks the prone female in her stomach, flipping her flat onto her back. "Or THIS?!" He stomps on her stomach, grinding his heels into the ribs. There is a sickening crack. The female's streaming tears and incoherent cries of agony tear at Nat's heart. He needs to save her - the princess Lissa is counting on him to keep her alive... he needs to do something, anything! But what?

What should he do?

What _can_ he do?

"Well?! Do you feel like telling me where the treasure is now? Or are you going to let your precious patient die in agony, you quack?!"

On the floor, the child-like woman begins to cough and retch violently. Blood gurgles from her open mouth, and her arms and shoulders stiff at her sides.

...It's no use. No matter how hard he thinks, Nat can't formulate a plan, much less any coherent thoughts. Ever since the mayor and the others were killed, the surviving townspeople had looked to the physician to make all of the important decisions. He really tried his best to balance his duty to his friends, family and patients with his obligations to the crown; he considered it a miracle that the citizens hiding out inside the cathedral had escaped without a problem. Before he realized it, Nat had already begun praying feverishly to the Divine Dragon in his head for another miracle.

"I don't have all day, sheepy!" Garrick brandishes his axe menacingly. "If you won't start talking, I'll skin this little lost lamb alive!"

At the back of his mind, Nat faintly notices the girl is no longer coughing and has become quiet and unmoving; he can't see her face because she's facing the opposite direction but she has most likely passed out from the pain the brigand had cruelly brought down upon her. ...Perhaps it is for the best that she does not stay awake during these horrific times. But the doctor still feels sick for the torture she has gone through.

"You aren't going to save her? Hah! Gangrel was right - you Ylisseans are all hypocrites! Not that it matters to me; all of the gold and the treasure will be mine anyways!" Garrick repositions himself so he is standing directly above the unconscious woman on the floor and raises his axe high, preparing to bring it down upon her head. "Since you obviously don't care about your precious patient, I'll just kill her off and be done with it!"

Nat's heart leaps to his throat. "N-no! Don't! I'll talk! Just don't hurt her!"

Garrick gives him a nasty smile. "Too late, sheepy!"

With all of his strength, the brigand swings his axe down towards the helpless female's head.

"NOOOO!"

Nat leaps forward without thinking, even though he knows it's too late to save her, even though he's aware that he's too far away to make any difference.

He has lost another patient due to his own hesitation...!

In the next instant, Garrick's axe slides out of his fingers and clatters heavily to the floor. The man himself follows right after like a limp ragdoll, his facial expression one of confusion and pain. Nat's entire body goes numb from bewilderment, his mind unable to process what is happening right in front of his eyes fast enough.

* * *

Something is on the loose.

In silence it stalks its prey.

Never does it fail to find the mark.

It slips away unseen, unheard.

It is a huntress...

A huntress without peer.

* * *

"Garrick, the town fire's spreading too fast! The church is already aflame! Where are you?!" The two mages who had been sent to investigate the secret passage behind the altar charge back into the church not a moment too soon, and screech to a halt next to Garrick's unmoving form. "What on earth happened...?" The younger mage immediately notices the arrow buried in the base of Garrick's neck and snarls at the physician, "You think you'll get away with this alive?!"

Nat remains frozen in place as if held there by some invisible force. His eyes are darting from side to side, watching... waiting for something.

The older mage grabs the first one by his collar and lightly shakes him. "Archers can only attack from a certain distance, fool! Does that wimp standing near the entrance look capable of wielding one? No! Take another look around, and more carefully this time! We could be ambushed at any moment!" He lets go, walks over to Nat and aims his fingers at his face with a spell ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. "Move closer to the doors, but keep your hands up where I can see them! I don't want you attempting an escape, you hear me?"

The other, younger mage scans the wooden pews up and down for any sign of an enemy, his fire tome already open in his hand. Near the center of the building he recognizes the cloaked female hostage, lying on the floor. Hanging from the ceiling near her still form is a length of rope, swinging gently from side to side. The mage nudges the girl's arm with his foot; satisfied that she is unconscious, he tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling but it's too high up and too dark for him to see anything. "I get it now... you climbed up to the roof to hide yourself. Not a bad idea... it's just too bad you didn't remember to pull up the rope after yourself. Sorry, little archer, but you aren't getting away alive!"

"Well what are you waiting for?! Climb up after him!" The older mage urges.

"Tch. Who gave you the authority to order me around?!"

Nat recognizes that rope - it's the one he was about to pull earlier, after all. Making sure the mages aren't looking, he take a few quiet steps back until his body is pressed up flat against the wooden double doors. He braces himself for the impact.

To his astonishment, the ceiling does _not_ cave in and crush them all like he'd planned it to when the mage starts pulling himself up the rope. He lets out a sigh of relief without thinking, catching the older mage's irate attention.

"What? You have something to say?!"

"N-no..."

Smoke begins seeping into the church - the mages weren't lying when they said that the building was catching fire fast. Nat coughs, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain of lack of oxygen before blearily opening them again. His eyes flicker to a spot behind the mage and he gasps, his jaw dropping open.

* * *

Slowly, stealthily.

The huntress moves in for the kill.

Her prey is still unaware how close she really is.

* * *

The older mage sees the doctor's strange change in demeanor and whirls around - only to find his partner already dead on the floor. "...?! I-impossible! I didn't hear anything...!" Muttering a curse under his breath, he grabs Nathaniel by his shoulder, his fingers crackling dangerously with lightning energy, causing the physician to flinch. He announces to the room at large, "I know you're out there! If you don't show yourself right this second, I will kill this man and this woman! Their blood will be on your hands!"

Still shouting, the mage drags Nat over to the center of the church until they're standing right above the fresh corpse of his dead comrade and the hooded female, still on the floor. "Come out, I said! Do you want to be responsible for the deaths of two innocent civilians?!"

Nat suddenly remembers the decorative stone that the childish female had given him as a gift some time earlier. It's still in his pocket, and if he remembers correctly, it is quite weighty - perfect for bashing the mage's head with to take him by surprise. Moving slowly as to not alert the bandit of what he is plotting, Nathaniel inches his free hand into his coat pocket, grasping the stone in his fingers. All he needs to do is wait for the right moment.

"On the count of three, I will electrocute this civilian to death!" The mage tightens his grip on Nat's shoulder and looks around the room wildly for any sign of the mysterious assailant.

_Wait for it..._

"One... two... THREE!"

_Now!_

"Hyaaaaah!"

He twists his body closer to the mage and swings with all his might. The rock connects right between the mage's eyes and the man yelps, stunned into submission. Nat succeeds in wrenching himself from the bandit's grip and makes a mad dash for the doors. Behind him, the mage shakes the pain away and tries to give chase, and points at the doctor's retreating back with all of his magical might.

In the next instant, the mage's feet are yanked out from underneath him, and he falls forwards. He tries to move his hands to grab his tome, but he can't. It feels as if they are tied together with some kind of string. He can't climb to his feet, either because something is resting heavily on top of him; it's like somebody is sitting on his back. "W-what's happening," he mutters under his breath, stunned once again from his head colliding with the floor so hard. "T-this shouldn't be happening... this shouldn't be happening...! This is supposed to be an easy mission!"

Meanwhile, Nat pauses at the entrance. He can't help himself; his morbid curiosity forces him to look over his shoulder.

"This shouldn't be happening!_ This shouldn't be happening!_" The mage is screaming hysterics. He is unable to understand what is happening to him, _why_ it's happening to him. And neither can Nat.

The hooded lady gently rests a hand on the mage's back. In her other hand is a very long needle made of iron, glinting in the light of the spreading flames - the physician recognizes it as one of his own, which he thought he'd misplaced.

"It's pointless to keep struggling."

Her voice sounds both soothing and patronizing - it's as if she is gently chastising a young child for bad behavior.

"Nothing is normal at a time like this. Yet you refused to see beyond what you thought was normal. That was your downfall."

She lifts her hand, the needle poised to strike.

"...You lose."

The next few seconds are like a dream: the older mage is dealt with so swiftly, so simply it was almost as if he weren't even worth the effort. The doctor slowly sinks to his knees at the display of such ruthless efficiency; he absently wonders if this is the Divine Dragon's response to his prayers... or if this is the work of the Fell Dragon. He only understands that this is beyond anything he could have imagined.

* * *

Stop and think for a second.

Mass destruction of entire kingdoms, people all over the world dying in droves, the end of civilization as we know it.

Nameless heroes.

It sounds so fantastical, so mysterious and so unreal, you write off these villains and heroes as the stuff of old wives' fairy tales and promptly forget about them..

After all, you're just an ordinary person; there's no way anyone or anything as 'otherworldly' and 'legendary' as that would ever pop up in your lifetime, much less right in front of you. Dragons, gods and heroes are somebody else's problem.

But suppose though, something fantastical, mysterious and unreal were to really happen to you.

What would you do?


End file.
